Dan Barry photo

Napoleon Maddox and Claire Daly walk the plank during an improv dialogue.

We all want Connecticut’s local music scene to get better, but the truth is that words like “scene” and “better” mean so many different things to different people that the sentiment is almost useless. Hartford doesn’t even have a grip on what its own major concerns and desires are. It’s been this way for a while. From time to time in the past, people have attempted to organize networks, panels, or events to discuss problems specific to Central Connecticut’s local music scene. But musicians are notoriously difficult to organize, and many scene vets have a tendency to come off as jaded finger-pointers, chastising fathers, and know-it-alls. (Funny, you’d expect music makers to be better listeners.)

But the beginnings of a dialogue came from left field this past Sunday, when a new venue called The Warehouse held its first major event. Housed in the building that used to be The Spaghetti Warehouse, and more recently the Trout Brook Brewery, The Warehouse is a massive space with two stages, two bars, a pool room, an outdoor patio, and a helicopter landing pad (not really, but it wouldn’t be a stretch). They gave the place a good housewarming, and put themselves on many a music fan’s entertainment map, by hosting a Music Industry Mixer that featured bands, promoters, merchants, and artists all strutting their stuff and networking for the night.

For me, the highlight set of the evening was David Cain and the Neighborhood Band. Cain, whose long work on a debut disc has finally paid off, is currently in the midst of some serious gigging. As a frontman, Cain has a mix of disheveled, boyish good looks and feminine vocals — which puts him high up there on the rock 'n' roll androgyny scale. You’d never know it here in the land of the straight and the home of the phobic, but a little androgyny is an instant-win rock formula, and it’s one that I think works exceptionally well for Cain, considering he plays catchy, danceable pop. His tunes make even more sense alongside those of fellow Tides Records labelmate Bill Carleton, though with more of a John Mayer edge and less of Carleton’s James Taylor influence.

I was also thrilled to see Eric Sack handling the bass duties for Cain. Sack's name is getting well-circulated of late, and it's about time: he's one of the nastiest, most energetic bass players in the state. While watching him shake and dance, smile at his bandmates, and stick his tongue out at a heckling André Balazs, I turned to my roommate Josh and said, "I think from now until the day he dies, he will never be bored playing bass."

"He should have a wireless amp so he can go out in the crowd and get in people's faces," said Josh.

"I think he could have sex while still playing this bassline," I responded.

I dare say Sack is underutilized in Cain's live band. Perhaps they can open up some room for him to solo now and then in their live compositions, so his talent for combining musical and visual performance can stand forth.

Perhaps a mixer/showcase style event like Sunday's is the solution no one's thought of yet. By placing musicians under the same roof to do what they do best — play tunes and party — there was no expectation of great revelations, no grim and gritty problem-solving atmosphere. Instead, there were just tons of happy run-ins: Alan Veniscofsky from Rane and Tides Records told me how excited he was to be recording the new Columbia Fields album; rapper Lump Sum gave me his latest mixtape. I even had a laugh with Mike Tierney (The Feed, AMS Studios) and rock photographer Rich Cianci over the Grand Band Slam cover story we ran two weeks ago. ("Hey, I wrote that story!" "Hey, I took that cover photo of Article 19!" "Hey, that’s my venue they were playing at!") Here’s hoping that The Warehouse has a bright future ahead—and that events like Sunday’s portend even fresher things to come.

The previous evening, I was at Oddfellows Playhouse in Middletown to enjoy the 6th annual Meet the Composer festival. Organizer and jazz bassist Joe Fonda had put together an eclectic bill of beat poetry, solo compositions, jazz, and — most unusually for this area — a team-up of a baritone saxophonist (Claire Daly) with a human beatbox (Napoleon Maddox). The two opened their set with a series of two-character dialogues, and with each song, both artists inhabited their characters with increasing animation. At one point in their set, they threw the doors open for the audience to suggest pairings for them to enact. Being a long-standing fan of the epic conflict between pirates and ninjas, I suggested that Maddox take up rum and wenching, and Daly try saxing in stealth. (So much for objective reporting!) The two unleashed a frantic, war-like dialogue that led to Maddox disappearing from the stage, and reappearing with his t-shirt wrapped Jack Sparrow-like around his dreads. Daly hid behind a set piece in the back of the theatre, emitting stealthy toots; Maddox ended the piece by unplugging his microphone, pocketing it, and skulking out of the performance space.

While their pieces where hysterical and often innovative, Maddox and Daly's set seemed to have more promise as children's theatre or in-the-round participatory art. It was clear that the majority of audience members — and there were only a few, roughly 30 — were hanging on for Conference Call, the mind-shredding jazz quartet who would end the evening’s bill. While they were appreciative of Maddox and Daly, the rift between their jazz-snobbishness and the duo’s child-like playfulness was too wide for art to cross. Likewise, the dramatic nature of the character pieces prohibited either artist from unleashing their full virtuosity. Notably, Maddox's beatbox vocabulary came off as limited to the sounds of a standard jazz drumkit (and the occasional cannonball explosion), whereas peers like Rahzel incorporate faux-scratching and sampling, and Kenny Muhammad imitates orchestra instruments. Then again, Maddox's strong suit has always been in jazz: whether on stage with Daly or in his jazz/hip hop fusion IsWhat?!, he excels at recreating the spiraling, effulgent fills and fractal patterns of jazz drumming. Perhaps innovative renderings of old standards could lend some more backbone to their set.


Want to see Eric Sack in action? Every Wednesday night he and his friends host the tunes down at Manchester's Hungry Tiger. There’s no cover and $1 domestic drafts in it for you, too. Thursday: The Josh Evans Ensemble returns to Elmwood’s Szechuan Tokyo to blast out some stone-cold, bebop influenced jazz. Friday: Band Slam winners Jeff & Craig of the Bus Drivers rock George’s Olive Bar in Unionville. Saturday: Arlene Wow! brings her alt-folk to Jitters in Southington.



Pennies ... thoughts.